A Serpent's rescue
by blakmagevamp
Summary: Harry unknownenly sends visions to Voldermort about the abuse he is dealing with at the Dursley's. what's he to do? strong violence, words and sexual content, slash. enjoy. being betaed!
1. Chapter 1

A serpent's rescue

The boy under the stairs listened with great contentment as his aunt and uncle fought. He hoped desperately that they'd get a divorce; with all the yelling it seemed likely. The boy knew that at the moment they were only staying married to make their son happy, because if Dudley wasn't happy there'd be hell to pay.

Again the boy signed. He loved the fighting, but the aftermath wasn't all that fun for him. He should learn to fear fights, for they might be his downfall. But he figured he deserved the pain. He killed Cedric, and he murdered Sirius, didn't he? He was a worthless freak, just as he'd been told, who deserved everything, every punch and every kick, that he'd ever received.

As he sat on the floor huddled in dry blood, he tried again to remember Sirius' face, but he could only see the image of him falling through the veil. He couldn't remember the way his godfather's eyes would shine in mischief or the way his lips would curl delightfully into the biggest smile he'd ever seen.

The door to the cupboard under the stairs opened to a most unwelcoming face: the face of his dear uncle, Vernon Dursley.

"You, Boy!" he screeched, pulling the skinny boy from the floor. Without even fully extracting him from the closet, he swung a wild left hook, hitting Harry in his already broken ribs. The beating, much like all the others, continued for several excruciating moments. Then he was pushed forcefully back into his small room, landing on his bruised and bleeding back, until next time.

He lay flat on his back, his emerald eyes unclear and unmoving. He was thinking, just thinking.

The Man, or monster, known as Voldemort, was sleeping soundly when yet another vision forced its way through his strong barriers. His dreams were most unpleasant; in short, every vision showed a rather fat man beating him. He found it most unusual.

But this one was different; it started the same, the beating, the blood the cold heartless eyes and never a sound from him himself. But this time there was more, there were thoughts that weren't his, there were ideas, thoughts, and dreams he'd never have thought of. And then he realized just whose mind he was being sucked into. His arch foe, the bleeding saviour of the fucking wizarding world, and more importantly Voldemort thought, he pitied the boy greatly. Having grown up in an orphanage, he knew what it was like not to be loved, caressed, or held softly when afraid. Many people did not realize their good fortune. But from the glimpses he'd gotten from the boy's, for he was indeed still a boy, he not only never felt the love of another but was also brutally abused for discretions not even he, the Dark Lord, would punish someone for. And to do it to a child, no matter how evil people thought Voldemort was, he had never physically abused a child, other than Potter (but he was special), that was emotionally unstable, for he could not possibly fathom the horror of it all.

He had to act, but how? Bring Harry Potter here? Send him to Hogwarts where his mind would begin to heal? That was the question worth pondering over. Should he abduct Potter, keep him safe? But that would defeat the purpose of this war. He was here to kill Potter, not to save him. He realized then that he couldn't kill the poor boy, not after everything he'd seen. Maybe, he thought, _I could convert him_. He laughed at the absurdity of it all, and he imagined the possibilities. He laughed aloud, but in his mind the possibility unraveled. In his head, thoughts, ideas, plans, even dreams were forming quickly. And really, all he had to do was kidnap The Boy Who Lived and talk reasonably to him. He laughed again. He'd have to warn his most trusted faithful servant first, and the rest be damned. He'd hide him, yes, that's what would work, keep him hidden in his personal chambers where no one dared to venture. But it would be difficult. He'd have to prove to the boy that he was finally free, free not only of his bastard relatives, but also of manipulation. He wouldn't attempt manipulation on the savior; he was too smart for it too work. He'd try honesty first, something he doubted the boy had ever been subjected to. It'd be difficult, he admitted to himself, with his killing the boy's means of escaping from his relatives. If he'd known the boy was using Black as an escape, he would not have ordered his death. It was most regrettable. But that one had been labeled a traitor of kin, and he simply could not oppose that.

With his mind made and his resolve as strong as ever, Voldemort summoned Wormtail and, touching the mark on his arm, called his most faithful servants. They popped into the room without warning moments later, like he knew they would.

"Greetingss, my mosst faithful ssservantss. I have devised a new mission that needs completing. Who among you is worthy? Who among you will step up to task?" At first no one stepped forward, constantly afraid of punishment. Then a masked figured, dressed similarly to the others stepped forward, removing his silver inner circle mask.

"I am your most faithful servant, my lord. Allow me the privilege of accomplishing this most trusted assignment for you."

"Ahh, Severusss, my loyal Death Eater, rise and follow as I tell a most thrilling tale. The rest of you are dismissed. Come, Severuss, come, we have much planning to do." He stiffly rose from his throne of stone and, with a whirl of his robes, exited from the chamber, the potions master hot on his heels.

Disclaimer: I don't own shit but the plot, it all belongs to JKR. Lucky girl that she is.

A/N: I hope you liked it. Please review I am finished the next chapter to it'll be up within a day. Please tell me what you think I'd like to know if it's absolutely crap or I should continue. Also if you like my work go visit my other stories, you never have enough time to waste. REVIEW! Thanks to my new beta , people can actually understand this!!

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	2. Chapter 2

Together they weaved through the corridors leading to the Dark Lord's chambers. He wanted the uttermost privacy for this meeting; he checked to see if Severus was following him, he was. Seeing this, he picked up his pace, eager to get to his chambers. He wanted this done as rapidly as possible, so as to spare Harry the hurt, but also so he didn't have to witness it. It was piteously selfish but terribly true.

As soon as they reached the private chambers, Voldemort conjured more than enough strong spells to make sure their conversation was not overheard. He could see that Snape was getting slightly nervous, which normally meant that he was extremely nervous.

"Severuss, have a seat," the Dark Lord said calmly. Severus' small twitch had stopped; he was now completely terrified.

"Yes, m-my Lord." He stumbled onto the couch. Voldemort sat as well, looking over at Snape, suddenly feeling unsure.

"Err…" he began, completely out of character. Then after realizing he'd said something so weak, tried to regain his composure. After the look of astonishment had left Snape's face, he continued, trying to salvage his already ruined reputation. He got down to business immediately.

"The mission I need completed is about the Potter Boy," Voldemort started with his usual composure. Here he carefully chose his words. "I want you to kidnap him and bring him here. He is not to come to any more harm than needed, that meanss no attacking him verbally or physically. I will know if you have, Severuss. You shall depart immediately, and I warn you not to be shocked by his physical state."

"If I may be so bold, my Lord, you said 'more harm'. In what condition will I expect to find Potter, my Lord?" Shape asked hastily.

"His condition," the Dark Lord began, only to stop and think about it. Considering his options, he deduced that it'd be best to let everything be known. "Severuss, I cannot tell you, you must be shown. What I am about to show you must, first, be kept silently to yourself. Secondly, I must tell you, it is a memory but it is not my memory. It was forced through my barriers."

Snape was shocked at this last; the memory was forced through the Dark Lord's mind. That was magical power and very strong will. Then the identity of the sender became quite clear.

"Potter's memory?" he asked.

"You forget your place, Severuss," Voldemort hissed.

Snape immediately leapt up and knelt down, groveling. "So sorry, my Lord, please forgive my transgression." He kissed Voldemort's robes.

"Get up Severuss, yess, yess, it was blasted Potter's recollection. He's been sending them all summer, but that's not important. The memory," he placed his spider-like hands on Snape's temples, "will give you all the answers you seek, and then some." He projected the images he'd received into Snape's mind, one memory after another.

After three consecutive memories they both resurfaced into the present. Voldemort noticed that Snape was rather pale then usual. Child abuse seemed to distress him.

"I… I understand," was all Snape said, trying to regain his smooth composure.

"Excellent, then we must plan for the mission," began Voldemort. "I trusst you are able to get in the wardsss?" To this Snape nodded profusely. "Brilliant, that will make thiss so much easier. The plan is basically to infiltrate, kill the fat pigss and collect the boy. Sseeing as the boy is mostly unconscious he shan't be a problem."

"It shall be done," said Snape with conviction. "My Lord," he remembered to say in time.

Voldemort waved his hand in a gesture of both approval and dismissal. "Hurry, Severuss, he hasn't much time," the Dark Lord whispered, but Snape heard him nevertheless.

"In all haste," was his only reply as he swept out of the room majestically, his black robes billowing around him in true Snape fashion. Then leaving a sullen Voldemort in his wake, wondering why he couldn't do that.

"Maybe if I buy longer robes," he said to himself, actually considering it (after all image was everything). And the billowing of the robes was intimidating.

Pushing up from his seat, Voldemort walked through the small door on the right to his private library. It held more books than Hogwarts and Flourish and Blots combined. He walked through the rows, running his hand over several books as he passed. He found the fireplace and decided on a strong drink and a good read for the rest of the night. He'd no intention of falling asleep before Harry Potter was within his reach.

Sitting comfortably in his favorite leather chair, he poured himself a tall glace of brandy. He took a sip and then swirled it around in true madman style. Taking another sip of the alcoholic drink, he opened his book at random. The entire book was amazing. He'd already read it; it had been and still was his favorite. The title was The Reign of He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named, a book about him, he truly loved it. Until the end and it started to rejoice the Potter brat.

But instead of reading it, he started to think about the mission he'd just sent Snape on. He'd long suspected Snape of being a spy. He worked at his enemy's bloody school, only a fool wouldn't wonder. But, he had yet to conclude on what to do; he was after all the best potions master in the bloody world. He couldn't just outright kill him, no, Severus had his uses. Voldemort thought that with the Potter Boy in his custody maybe Snape would reconsider, he was going to be taking care of the blasted boy after all, not like that daft old bastard. He'd win Severus over, he was sure of it. In any case, Snape respected power, and he had enough of it on his own that he could switch sides at will, and the Potter boy had it too. He was the deciding factor in this war. It would all come down to which side of the playing field he'd be on. With Potter at his side, he could not be defeated. The world hung on Potter's malnourished shoulders. The world waited for him.

A/N: I won't keep you long , cuz well you can go look at my other stories if your not reading this, though I know no one ever reads AN's but meh. Right so please Review let me know what you thought and anyways REVIEW and check out my other stories if you liked this one. XD thanks again steph.


	3. Chapter 3

The day started like any other for Harry Potter, and it continued this way throughout the rest of the day. First he awoke to the stench of dry blood, then he cooked breakfast for his relatives (while never getting any for himself), and then he got beaten and sank into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

The days passed and the nights blurred, until finally something out of the ordinary happened: the doorbell rang. Harry found this odd because usually he'd be told when someone was coming over so he could be brought to hide in the shed in the backyard. The only reason he wasn't there regularly was because the Dursleys didn't like to walk a lot, thus they couldn't beat him as much as they would have preferred.

He heard his large uncle waddle to the door, throwing it open. "Yeah?" Harry heard him ask. The stranger at the door muttered something that he couldn't make out. Then there was a flash of blue light and large crash that sounded like a wall breaking.

"Wizard," Harry murmured to himself. Nothing but magic, or perhaps a crane, could have lifted Vernon Dursley in the air. Dudley and Petunia came running in after Vernon was thrown. The mysterious stranger, who Harry would have to thank, whispered more enchantments, sending the two remaining Dursleys to the floor. Harry assumed his aunt was on the floor, but Dudley made such a booming noise all the time so he wasn't sure.

All Harry could think was that his captors were down; there wasn't anyone left that could torture him as the Dursleys had. The thought that it might be Death Eaters never crossed his mind. He lay back down in the comforting three inches of dry blood, imagining the possibilities that lay ahead. He was free, so utterly free of his relatives that he could have wept or wooted with joy, though the pain in his body kept him still. He was so wrapped up in joy and imagination that he didn't hear the sound of the small door opening. He only looked up when he felt eyes boring in to his empty ones.

He was shocked to see Severus Snape staring down at him with bottomless eyes of pity. Before he could comment, though, Snape set his face into neutral lines, the ever-famous sneer.

"Come, Mr. Potter, it is time to leave. You need no longer remain here," said Snape in his smooth, silky tone, which was for once was lacking in its usual venom.

Harry tried to sputter out a reply and to move, but he couldn't manage either. Yesterday's beating had been slightly more extravagant than usual. He wasn't sure why though; maybe his uncle had been feeling particularly angry that day.

"Don't worry, Harry," whispered Snape in a surprisingly calm and soothing voice. "We'll get you out of this. No need to reply." He knelt inside the cupboard, his head almost reaching the top. "Let's see what we can do about these cuts, shall we? I am afraid I won't be able to do any serious healing until we reach the Dark Lord's residence."

As expected, Harry's eyes flew open at the mention of Voldemort. He'd assumed Snape had been sent by Dumbledore. He started to struggle, knowing it was futile, but continued anyways, trying anything to escape from Snape.

"No need to struggle, Potter. If the Dark Lord had any intention of killing you he'd have stepped aside and let the fat Muggle continue." Harry looked up at the potions master, his eyes wide.

He wasn't able to keep them open long though, for the struggle had taken the little energy he had. He looked out through his glazed eyes, looking at Snape, who had merely become a dark blur.

"Take… take care of me?" he whispered softly to Snape, before falling into his friend's embrace, unconscious. Snape looked at the boy, who'd just given him, Severus Snape, his trust. The world was a haunting place.

"Something is most methodically wrong with this picture," said Snape to himself, rather glad when no one replied.

Spelling the boy senseless, he carefully and gently picked him up and walked out of the bloody house. Outside the wards, he turned in the direction of the blasted normal-looking house and conjured the dark mark above it.

Now everyone would know Potter was either dead or captured. They'd see the mess that were the Muggles and the bloody cupboard. Make of it what they will, Snape had no doubts.

Without a lingering glance he Apparated, the unconscious boy in tow. They landed in the throne room, the only room were Apparition was possible. He sighed when he realized it was empty. He would have had a hard time explaining things to the boy if it hadn't been.

He walked as quickly as he dared towards the Dark Lord's chambers, the boy still in his arms. It never occurred to him to conjure a stretcher or use a levitation charm. He resembled a new husband carrying his bride to their suite, except for the blood of course. Someone with a sadistic humour would have agreed.

He knocked on the study door, where he thought Voldemort was most likely to be. The door opened immediately, for he'd been waiting. Snape walked in and followed the Dark Lord through several doors. They reached a bedroom, most likely Voldemort's. Voldemort indicated for Snape to lay Harry on the bed. Together they began to strip the boy, removing every article thick in blood. This allowed them to see the many severities of his injuries. Both winced in pity and anger.

They redressed him in a pair of black silk drawstring pants. They were Voldemort's, but they fit Harry well. When he was dressed and clean, Colder sent Snape for his strongest healing potions. The boy was in need of some long traumatic saving. In Snape's absence, Voldemort did nothing. He simply sat and watched The Boy Who Lived, wondering what the future might bring. What many possibilities would unfold? What turns would the next day take? He sat in silence.

a/N: this chapter is now beta'ed , thank you steph, enjoy.


	4. Chapter 4

Severus Snape walked down to his personal potions lab, courtesy of the Dark Lord. He weaved through the corridors, going lower and lower. He knew the steps by heart, like he did many potions. The lab was in the dungeons area. There was an actual reason to this, to many people's surprise. Everyone thought that potions masters were generally anti-social and that they liked the dark. But the air could not stir, else it could risk disrupting the brew. The same went for light; too much of it might cause negative reactions to the results. Severus knew of several potions that needed to be brewed in complete darkness, hell he'd even invented some.

Severus liked potions; he understood them. Life, on the other hand, gave him problems. What the hell was he supposed to do with Potter? Dumbledore would want an explanation. He'd want to know why there was no warning, but then again, since no one else knew either, he could fake innocence. If he had other spies, which was unlikely but plausible, they'd tell him the same thing. That would deal with the headmaster, but not the boy.

Snape had long ago wondered which side he should be on. At the moment he was partial to either side, helping neither more than the other. He was a neutral in the war, playing in the middle of the battlefield. He'd never heard of the saying, "Don't play in traffic." He didn't truly care which side won, but he'd be on the side that did. If Severus Snape respected anything, it was power. The more power you had, the greater the temptation was, the more likely that side would win. Everything was about power, and those that couldn't perceive it were blinder than those that could not see.

And at the moment the person with the most power was lying unconscious in the room he'd just left. He was loath to admit it, but it was true. Harry Potter was the deciding factor in this war. He'd been leaning towards the light after he met Potter; he'd known the Dark Lord wasn't really gone. Hell, everyone knew it; no one wanted to admit it. The one who controlled Harry Potter would control the outcome of this war. They would win it.

If it were Dumbledore, the world would go on as it has. But if the Dark Lord reigned, things would be _different_. Truly, Snape didn't care either way, as long as he was free, and both futures contained freedom for him. He worked long and hard for his power and his strength. Now that he had it, he'd be granted the freedom he sought.

And know he knew it was almost there; all that mattered now was what side the Potter Boy chose. And Snape had full access to the boy, to "help" him decide. So really, the question was: Who did Severus want to win? What side benefited him the most? A Slytherin to the end, and that answer would benefit him. It was really an easy option when you looked at it from a rational point of view. Come to think of it though, Snape wasn't known as a rational thinker.

With lighter steps and a lighter mood, Snape returned to the Dark Lord's chambers carrying a case of very delicate potion bottles. Even with unbreakable spells, he still needed to be careful.

When he entered the room, he set down the case and knelt before the Dark Lord. After lowering his head, he lifted it to stare into Voldemort's crimson cold eyes. He took a deep shaky breath and said:

"To you, the Dark Lord, do I owe my loyalty and my fidelity. I am yours to command, my lord." Staring into Voldemort's eyes, it was impossible to lie, for even a skilled Occlumens such as Snape couldn't.


	5. Chapter 5

Voldemort knew exactly what this meant and inside was as happy as he could probably be, while on the outside looked calm and collected, though some happiness shinned through.

"Thank you Severuss, it means a great deal to me, the Dark lord said in an out of character way. They both nodded, Snape stood and they began to attend to the boy who controlled the future.

While Snape administered the potion to help the unconscious boy, the dark lord looked down at his prisoner. Though he was technically a captive, Voldemort wasn't going to treat him as such. He, with his new assistant, Severus, where going to convert Harry Potter. Well, they were going to try anyways. Then he would reign over the world, with the Potion master as his right hand and Harry Potter, the boy who'd lived on his left. They would be his two most fateful servants.

But he shouldn't think of that now, he had some healing to do. It'd be best if the boy woke up sooner rather then later. He knew what he had to do. He was secure in the fact that he'd be safe. He rose and took a step back from the bed.

"Sstep aside Servuss," he said in a cold voice Snape moved immediately.

"What are you doing my lord?" queered Snape, only hesitating slightly.

"A healing," was all the other man said before breaking into a long incantation. It was n Latin, realised Snape, who was also fluent maybe more so then Voldemort. But this, he was unable to make out more then a couple of worlds. This was old Latin, sort of like old English, but more so. He was able to make out key words though; healing, bonds and life force. The sound chilled him.

So the boy's dying and the Dark lord is giving him his life force, interesting, thought Snape, so very interesting. Which means they share a ling, but again he already knew that much. But he didn't know it had progressed this far. Hopefully he'd be able to get some answers.

The Dark lord stopped chanting and promptly collapsed in the nearest chair. First Severus went to check on the boy, happy to note that he was doing much better. In fact the boy should be waking within the next couple of hours. Then he went to the dark lord, brining his case of potions. Examining the battered man, he held out two vials, uncorked.

"What are they?" he asked after drowning down both contents and making a sour face, not liking the taste.

"A rejuvenation potion and a sleep potion, you are in need of nothing else. Shall I conjure you a bed my lord. I don't recommend sleeping in a chair. A voice of experience I assure you," replied Snape.

"No need, no need. I can sleep in my own bed. It's big enough for the both of us." He stood a little shaky but on his feet. He did manage to get to the bed but he fell as the sleeping potion began to work.

Snape signed as soon as he realised Voldemort was asleep, his shoulders dropped several noticeable inches. Although now on the supposed "dark" side with the Dark lord's full knowledge of this, he couldn't be completely relaxed in the man's company. Looking down he corrected that thought smirking, couldn't relax while he was awake. Sleeping he was fine. His smirk grew as he looked down at the man, he looked utterly harmless. While some what threatening with spider hands and lack of nose, not really dangerous.

"Soon that will all change though. Soon you will look like you were meant to, strong fearful and ready to kill." Snape spoke softly as if his words could wake the two unconscious figures. He'd long been working on a potion that would… shift the dark lord's features to something somewhat human. It was long over due, he could not rule the world if he didn't look handsome. Sallow but entirely true. People look up to others who have charm, class and who are hot. Just look at Lockhart, he thought appalled. Hoe he'd amounted to anything was really quite surprising. Snape snarled at the mere mention of the old defence teacher.

Enough of the past though, it's the future that maters now. And soon the world will be brought to their knees, over whelmed with the sheer power of it all. He hadn't thought much of the future, knowing only that he would survive it. If he was anything it was a survivor.

He looked down at the two sleeping figures. They'd shifted and were now practically spooning each other. He considered that a moment. He knew the dark lords preferences, having been subjected to them on several accounts. Most of which were not unpleasant he had to admit, though he still preferred women over men.

The only problem was he didn't know Potters. Was he homosexual? Heterosexual? Bisexual? There wasn't anything to hint at school. Potter didn't date for fear that they'd get killed, so he wasn't sure. He'd walked in once on Potter and Malfoy jr. standing rather close. Malfoy hadn't said anything to him, but he knew the boy leaned towards men never the less. But that encounter could mean many things. It frustrated him to no end.

He gazed down at the boy, the biggest mystery of all, vowing to one day figure him out.

He let an exasperated sign, knowing he'd probably be dogging Potter's steps for the rest of his life after that vow. Potter was most likely unsolvable.

He settled into the chair preparing to do exactly what he'd talked the Dark lord out of. His head resting comfortably on the top of the chair's back. He closed his eyes letting exhaustion free pulling him into a deep slumber.

Then his eyes shot open with alarm, he had to go see the Headmaster. He'd have been notified by now of the boy's disappearance. He made his way quickly to the thrown room and apparated away, hoping he could successfully repair this new damage. .

A/N: sorry it took so long to update, I won't do that again. next chapter Harry wakes up with Voldy in his bed. Ohhh! Hope you like and continue reading. Please REVIEW and look at my other stories. XD.


	6. Chapter 6

Warmth flooded threw him, not warmth from spilt blood dried on his skin, but from another body. He snuggled into the person not caring who it was. He'd never had this, waken to someone beside him; it had eluded him for so long.

His memories of how he came to be here were very fuzzy. All he knew was that he was warm, the pain was mostly gone and from what he could tell he was away from the Dursley's. They'd never have let him sleep in a bed this soft. He didn't care were he was, but he realised with a jolt he felt safe. He hadn't felt this way in a long time. Since Voldemort infiltrated Hogwarts it hadn't felt safe there. And well there's nothing secure about the Dursley's.

He'd felt protected with Sirius, but Sirius wasn't here at the moment now was he? Had he cross4ed over? Finally died? It seemed like it, he had the warmth he sought, the pain was gone and the feeling of security was surrounding him. Was he dead? Was there really an alternative, something other then being dead to consider?

His eyes creaked open, light flooded in, and he assessed that he hadn't perished. Couldn't be dead, the light hurt his eyes. Yet, how did he know death didn't hurt, he'd never been dead before. Science says it's the end of all; of brain activity, nerve function, and emotions, all that makes us human and live. There fore it means the end of pain, but what if you relive your dying moment for, all eternity, in death. That's quite a scary thought.

He took a look at the room around him. Bleak, he thought, very bleak, I like it. His hands caressed the sheets he was lying on. He snuggled deeper into the sheets with a sign, real silk.

The person in bed with him decided to wake. He could tell by their change in breathing. It hitched for several seconds. Harry struggled to turn, wanting to know who had saved him. Who had given him warmth, but hands kept him locked, unturned.

"Let me turn," he said, slightly annoyed. The only answer he got was a strong "no."

"And why ever not?" he responded in the most polite voice he could muster.

"Because," the voice said. Harry growled in response, the voice chuckled in amusement. Although this voice seemed to have saved him, it was annoying the hell out of Harry at the moment. How was he supposed to repay the man? He figured it to be a man, even if he couldn't see him. But since, as they were both in bed, he thought the answer obvious.

Harry pulled his hand behind him and started to massage the man's thigh. The man went ridged. Harry's hand moved higher, but before he could get close to anything a hand with an iron grip took hold of his wrist.

"What are you doing?" the voice that belonged to the body asked. He was still ridged as a board, but his voice shook, only a slight waver but still noticeable. Harry couldn't tell what the emotion was though.

"I am repaying you, sir," responded the black haired boy, sating it like it was the most evident fact in the world.

"Repaying me? For what?" Voldemort was, he had to admit, curious as to why the boy was doing this, selling himself. And yet very weary of the answer.

"For saving me?" the boy said, more a question then anything, as if he too was beginning to doubt it. "You did save me right? Or did you buy me? I'll be quiet now them. I am sorry for talking too much. Please continue I won't stop you." The boy was almost in hysterics now; the last sentence was almost incomprehensible. But Voldemort heard what was spoken last.

How stupid could he be, saved? The man must have thought him nuts. This was just another job for the Dursley's, to get money out of him. It was his way to 'repay' them for their hospitality and all. He should have realised when he woke to silk sheets. He was expensive after all; the Dursley's only sold him for a high price. All his buyers were extremely rich men and women.

He knew he couldn't escape the Dursley's, it just wasn't possible. Every summer, without fail, he'd be send there. And there he'd act as their house-elf, whipping boy, prostitute, whore; anything and everything they wanted. Why? Because he needed their protection and they knew it and exploited it. But he'd never felt save, protected, at that house. Sure he was indeed safe from the evil dark lord of a bastard and his idiotic minions that were just trying to kill him for a valid reason. But he wasn't safe from his sadistic relatives that rent him out like a piece of furniture or beat him. Not from the people that he once trusted, that betrayed him, no he 3wasn't safe from his 'family.'

He wanted to cry away his pain, the emotion ones it seemed he'd already healed his physical. But he knew he couldn't. He had to please the other man that was in bed with him. He had to make sure the man was satisfied with his services or he'd tell the Dursley's. He could hear the conversation now, "good lay but in the middle of if he started to cry, not very arousing. You might want to work with him on that," he'd be unconscious tell first term.

His mind retuned to the present, prepared to do what ever it took to satisfy this rich man. But it seemed the other man wasn't doing anything. Harry was puzzled, why wasn't he touching him, or grinding in to him? Was he supposed to start? Should he start getting undressed? He noticed that he was fully dressed.

"Umm… sir, why aren't you doing anything? Would you like me to start? I am very good," said Harry hoping to appease the man for his early out burst. Maybe the man was waiting for yet another apology. "I am very sorry for my out burst earlier, sir. I won't talk again, unless of course you want me too."

He heard the man sin, hoping that was a good sigh, a sign to start, he wiggled his hips into the man's groin. The other man, that Harry conceded must be around 6 feet tall, moaned… loudly. Harry smiled, as he had said he was good. He'd been through this many times. The Dursley's had been pimping him out since he could remember. He'd met a large number of pedophiles in his earlier years. The black haired boy still doesn't know how he remained sane throughout any of it. He thrust into the man again; he was rewarded this time with another moan only deeper, more animalistic. Actually it sounded more like a hiss then anything.

"Sstop Harry!" the man ground out. Harry immediately halted what he was going, but it wasn't the forceful command that had done so. The Dursley's didn't give out his real name, who did this man know? He started to get frightened.

"H... How do you know my name? Let me go, I want to go home!" Harry shouted, he started to struggle, more so then before.

The hands clapped down on his waist again, effectively restraining him again.

"Calm yourself Harry, I will not harm you." The man said slowly and clearly. Harry took several deep breaths, the voice continued. "I did in fact rescue you from those vial things you call relatives."

"Then let me repay you," responded the boy right after, snuggling into the man again. The arms kept him at bay. But he really wanted to just repay this man and leave. He couldn't leave indebt to this man. Who knew when he'd call in his favour?

"No! I didn't do this for payment."

"Then what do you want? Everyone wants something." Said Harry, he was beginning to get suspicious of the man. Who wants nothing? Everyone wants something. While the man hadn't said he didn't want anything. Maybe it was just something he couldn't give him. While he clearly stated that he didn't want sex, at lest not from him. He listened quietly though as the man replied and stiffened involuntarily.

"I want you to join me Mr. Potter," was the laughing reply.

"V… Vold… Voldemort?" He asked in a horse whisper.

A/N: there's the next chapter hope you like it and I am real sorry for the wait. I'll try and get the next chapter up soon. Shouldn't be long I've already written it, just have to type it up. Please REVIEW and look at my other stories. I hope this is the way you wanted to story to go if not well screw you, is all I can say. Please REVIEW and check my Profile! Thanxs a bunch. XD!


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh good, you figured it out," the dark lord said humorously. The way he said it was quite condescending, not that Harry noticed through his shock though.

"What do you wan?" Harry gasped, forgetting Voldemort had already answered the question not more then moments ago.

Voldemort laughed and got out of bed. "I already answered that one Harry," he said as he walked to his armoire. He pulled out a robe for himself and slipped it on. He turned to throw robes, pants and a shirt at Harry. "You may wear those after you've bathed. You've probably noticed the blood has been cleaned, but a nice bath will do you good." He clicked his fingers and a house elf appeared. It curtsied to Voldemort and waited for orders. The dark lord told it to draw a bath for Harry and get a small luncheon ready. It diapered, presumably to run the bath and Voldemort turned to Harry.

Harry was staring at him with wide eyes and slightly parted mouth, he was to say very shocked. "What in Merlin's balls in going on?" asked Harry rudely, getting over his shock slightly.

"Language Harry, language. I am saving you Harry. Just as you requested," was the reply he received.

"But you're trying to kill me," said Harry earnestly. "What's wrong with that plan? What are you going to do anyways? Save me, heal me, turn around and kill me?"

"I've decided that that plan was faulty, I no longer want to demolish your being." Voldemort said, "Now come take your bath, if you wait to long too long it will chill."

Harry slide out of bed slowly, still not trusting the Dark lord in front of him. He pulled the bundled of clothes Voldemort had thrown at him close to his chest, like he could save them from something. His head looked around the room, not finding a door. He turned to look at the other man who was staring at him expectantly.

"Err… where's the bathroom? There aren't any doors," he asked softly trying hard to keep his cynical nature in check.

Voldemort face was one of disbelief, and then remembered the boy grew up with muggles, like him. "The door will appear any where you want it too. Walk towards the wall thinking of a door and it will spring open."

He watched as the boy turned to the right and observed the mahogany covered wall. He glanced over at Voldemort once, he nodded at the boy. He knew this was a test. If he'd told the truth a door would open and Harry would tryst him, to a certain extent. If he'd lied and there was no door Harry would never trust him and wouldn't join him.

Luckily for him a door popped open and allowed entrance to the boy. The boy walked through, and then manually closed it leaving Voldemort in his own room to await him.

Harry stood and looked at the nicely decorated bathroom. It was done in marble. Two white sinks stood on the right wall with a large extravagant mirror above them. On the left there was a toilet carved in black and while marble. But the most noticeable piece in the room was the large bath facing the door, but placed in the back of the room. It was dug into the floor made up of black marble; black and white seemed to be a theme here. The sides where lined with some type of soft material.

The bath was already dull of hot water and bubbles. Two black fluffy towels rested next to several bottles of shampoo, conditioner, soap shower gel and the likes. He signed knowing he'd do as told and take a bath. He de-robed and slowly lowered his body into the bath. He marvelled, the temperature was perfect, as was the water level. He could sit down and it came right up to his chin, perfect; he didn't swallow any in his mouth but it covered his entire body.

He scrubbed his still sensitive skin lightly, not wanting it to bruise but still wanting to be clean. Smelling clean and felling much better Harry tried to relax some in the tub. He'd long ago washed away the tears that had escaped his eyes. But he couldn't help but fell as if they still stood up on his pale face; raw and red.

He didn't know how to feel. It was a completely confusing conflict of interest. On one hand, he tried to think logically, he was away from the torment that is the Dursley's. While on the other he was now a captive of the in famed Dark Lord that had been trying to kill him for approximately sixteen years. He didn't know how long Voldemort had taken to planning his initial attack. Months? Days? Years? He wasn't sure. And truly he didn't feel like knowing the answer.

What he did want to find out though was what was with this sudden act of kindness. While it was most certainly a trap, without doubt, there was still some kindness evolved. But why was Voldemort hiding it, he was utterly defenceless, even dying. But there he goes and heals his arch-foe. He hadn't needed to do that. Was it for the wizard debt? Was there even one in this case?

Harry buried his head in his hands, more confused then ever before. He wanted to hate Voldemort, despise him for everything he'd done. But also found himself wanting to thank him, to like him, he couldn't have it both ways. He knew this. He signed and retrieved a towel, drying himself off.

As he got out of the tube he looked out at his wet body. Physically he was beautiful and he knew it, though he was a little on the skinny side. "Oh! Father of Mercy, Mother of Merlin!" he said, sliding down the wall. He'd just remembered what he'd spilled to Voldemort when he'd been in bed with him. For Merlin's sake he'd grinded against the fucking dark lord. Again Harry buried his head in his hands. Not exactly something he wanted his enemy to know about him.

Now what was he to do? Voldemort could blackmail him into anything with that. Well maybe not murder, but everything else was certainly open. Hopefully he just won't realise now powerful a weapon he had in his position. That though was laughable, he's a bloody, quite literally too, Slytherin, he'd take advantage of it even if it wasn't important. He'd just have to pretend it didn't mean anything, that it wasn't that important.

With the little resolution he had left, he hosted himself up and dressed in the clothes he'd been given. He couldn't help but noticed, even in a situation like this, how nicely tailored they were, and such fine silk. And Voldemort had tossed then on the bed like they were rags. He most definitely was loaded. Not exactly a good thing for an evil dark lord bent on killing and maiming the world, not to mention him too.

Dressed and wearing the most neutral facial expression he could muster, which was quite good he had to admit, the summer sessions with the Dursley's helped, he opened wide the door and sauntered out like he owned all of London, England. Little did he know that he could actually afford it.

A/N: thanxs all for reading my fic. Sorry this took me so long to put up, but my excuse is school started again and I've started a harder program. While please REVIEW and tell me what you think? Good, no good? Did I leave out something that he should have been wondering? In the next chapter a confrontation, but between who and who? While once I write it out I can tell you. XD

Ok pole here with only 4 options, question: who should Harry be with?

only Voldemort

Voldemort and Severus Snape

Voldemort and Malfoy (one of the two I'll keep that a surprise if it's one of your choices.)

ALL of them combined

He will be with Voldemort there is no getting past that but I'd like to know if he should be with Snape or Malfoy or just exclusively with Voldemort. Please review and let me know your choices, REVIEW!


	8. Chapter 8

The Dark lord paced up and down his bedroom. The boy had been in there a rather excessive amount of time. Though he resisted checking up on Harry. That would smack as caring and he didn't want to give himself away just yet. He realised that Harry was pretty smart, so he'd be looking for the trap. But if he planned this right no one would be able to see it, especially not potter. Maybe Severus would, but Voldemort might tell him.

Finally the door opening fallowed by a cloud of vapour, Harry exited next, though stopped just outside of the door frame. He looked magnificent in Slytherin colors, Voldemort noted absently. It bothered him that he was attracted to Potter. Though it was known that he was gay, it bothered him slightly, still.

He was a little bit like Hitler, a muggle monster that tried to kill off what he didn't like. Half of them were like himself, most of the list was for things people were born with, things they couldn't change.

Voldemort discriminated against muggle- borns or half-bloods, while he was only of half blood himself. This was sort of the same thing only his discrimination with homosexuals was mixed deeply with self loathing. But never the less he was very discrete about it. No one but he knew of it. Who would have thought the dark lord so uncertain?

"You look excellent Mr. Potter, now would you care for something to fill your stomach?" Voldemort gestured to a table laden with food; the amount rivalled one house table at Hogwarts. Harry hesitated, "you do realise I won't be able to eat all this right?" Queried Harry, even feeling better as he did, there was no way one person could eat all that. Well maybe Ron could, but then again he wasn't Ron.

The dark lord laughed, "No of course not, just eat as much as you're able. The rest will go to the man eating hall for Diner. Which you will not be attending."

"Why not?" Harry asked; he'd stopped pilling food on his plate in favour of listening.

"Because that's where the death eaters eat," was the short and cold response.

"Will you be joining them?" Harry questioned, starting to eat. His mind wasn't really in the question; he just wanted to hear Voldemort talk. Though the response did catch his attention quite readily.

"it depends on what you do next, actually"

"hun," was all Harry said before stuffing a large piece of sausage into his mouth. He contemplated this new tidbit of information. He was important. Voldemort wanted to know what he was doing, monitoring him. Why else would he mater? He wanted Harry to join him. So he'd try and convert him. But while he's already confirmed that, no need to consider. But the question remained how? There was always the blackmail root, but Voldemort didn't know if he had anything of value.

He looked down at his plate in embarrassment even if Voldemort had yet to say anything. Harry could see it in his eyes that he remembered. Each and every time he looked at Harry, his brows lowered a quarter of an inch and his eyes lost some crimson sparkle. Harry would have almost called it sympathy or pity and would have been enrages. He didn't need anyone's pity, nor did he want it. But he was quite certain it was an act so he stayed silent.

Refilling his place for the second time Harry observed the Dark lord. He'd just been sitting at the table watching him eat, slightly unnerving.

His crimson eyes were as deep as ever. His nose-less face unreadable, all ten of his spidery fingers clenched together on the table. His black robes, with silver lining offset his white scalp. He radiated power and for some odd reason Harry felt seduction pouring off his as well. Harry stopped eating, thinking this through. Was Voldemort part creature? Incubus? Vampire? Veela even? Every book he'd read said 'half blood' wizard, no mention of anything else. Was he doing it subconsciously? Or maybe it was Harry's own attraction to him he was feeling. True Harry felt that Voldemort was attractive. His pale white hands that looked so innocent, never sun touched. With his full mouth and his broad shoulders, Voldemort was delicious.

Harry looked into Voldemort's eyes, which he found staring back at him. His eyes travelled down to the man's lips, they we're moving.

"Are you done?" those full tantalizing lips asked.

"Yes," Harry purred, still lost somewhere deep in his mind. The Dark lord, slightly taken back by the purr, nodded looking self-conscious under Harry's gaze and uncomfortable. It had been a while since anyone's gaze had been able to unnerve him, he wasn't used to it.

"Err... Well… then…" said the Dark lord, just to break the silence that had sprung up around them. Harry said nothing, preferring silence to mindless chatter, even after all these years.

"I shall take my leave then. The library is where ever you'd like it to be. Other then the library, bathroom and this room, you are completely cut off from the rest of the house. Snap your fingers and a house elf will appear, giving you anything you desire. I shall see you later." The dark lord stood after speaking and left through an open door he created.

A/n: hey, sorry it took so long to update and that this chapter is so short it's just I wanted to get something posted. XD. Now I have all your votes and I must thank everyone who reviewed and everyone how voted. However it is unavoidable that some people will be unhappy with my choice of slash's. I won't tell you who won, though their will only be slight Luscius action, but not a lot. Sorry for those of you that voted for it. obviously he's with Voldemort, but I won't be telling you if there's a triangle or if they're alone. Hopefully I can get the next update up soon. Term's just ended so I have no projects for a while which hopefully means more time for this, but I can't guarantee. Please REVIEW and check my other stories if you have time. Not that you wouldn't if you actually read all this. XD. REVIEW.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry signed, instantly loosing his good posture and blank look. His demure completely changing the moment the door evaporated. His head came to meet his hands as he rested them together against the table. The nice oak table, he brought his head up slightly and looked down at the table and himself.

"I am despicable," Harry said to himself in anger. "In all my time at the Dursley's, with them pimping me out. Never have I had a buyer make me feel so cheap and used. We didn't even do anything! Only you Voldemort, only you. He! And you didn't even buy me, you stole me. The real nice clothes, extravagant food, you all want something, why can't you be like everyone else. Be up front about it. But no, you have to be all secretive, playing with my emotions. Like I am a thing. Damn it! I'm a person even if no one else believes it. I am a person, I know I am." Harry broke down in sobs. Unable to hold it in anymore, he'd always been denied the privilege, the emotional release, of crying. Never allowed to express himself, Harry just let it all go.

He fell to the ground weeping his pain. Eventually moving to the bed, curling into a small ball. Harry fell asleep. As he fell asleep he did not sense the danger approaching. Snuggled into the silk sheets and large comforter he forgot about everything. No memories accompanied this bed, he could sleep easy' that would soon change… drastically.

Lucius entered the master's privet chambers, as he usually did; uninvited. Usually they were empty, the dark lord entertaining else where. Not that he would mind, Mr. Malfoy always had more privileges then most. So as he walked in the chambers heading for the library, he caught site of the bedroom, a door had opened as he walked past. And what was In the bedroom surprised him greatly. He'd never known the dark lord to take a whore to his bed. His own death eaters every one and a while yes, but never a whore.

He crept forward, wondering. The boy was young, terribly young. The small figure curled on the bed looking to be about 12, but he knew that wasn't possible, the dark lord wasn't a pedophile. He stepped closer, taking in more details as he did. Noticing absent automatically that the whore wasn't chain so he could easily leave.

Raven black hair, petit form, older then he had first thought; around 15 or 16. and surprise, surprise the lad was dressed, in the dark lord's emerald robes. Lucius gapped at the boy. "Whores do not where nice clothing," he said, unable to keep that tib bit of information from passing his lips. He was surprised to hear a voice respond to his statement.

"You're right Mr. Malfoy," said the voice that Lucius soon realised belonged to the young boy in front of him. Lucius jumped, startled, he'd thought the lad asleep.

"Then you aren't a whore?" asked a hesitant and confused Malfoy. What other possible reason could there be for a young boy to be in his masters bed.

"I never said that, now did I," replied the boy without looking up.

"So... You are a whore," purred Lucius in obvious delight, making sure he had it right. "Nur eine hübsche Hure." He said with lustre, trailing his finger down the boys clothed chest, "wonderful," he murmured, lost in the lust that burned in his eyes. Then his eyes cleared for a second as he looked along the boys body. "how old are you?"

"16,"

"Prefect," Lucius purred, sounding one again like a cat, right before he pounced.

"ummm…" was all Harry had a chance to say before lips crashed down on him and his mind blanked. It was a sort of defence mechanism, with his mind black, it didn't register anything , thus he couldn't be traumatised by the events. His mind would black when hands caressed his flesh, making sure he didn't fit back, and compliant; he wouldn't get in trouble with the costumers or his 'relatives'. Unfortunately it didn't always work.

He did register dimly when the man atop him began to undress him and when he was slowly and even more surprisingly carefully readied. His body was on automatic, responding to the man's butterfly touches.

Unfortunately when the man began to penetrate him, his mind unblanked. He began to hyperventilate, though managed to stop quite quickly by repeating the same sentence over and over again. "it's the same as before, nothing new." The familiarity with the situation allowed him to calm down. But he was now fully aware of his senses and cringed at them all.

What seemed like hours later, Lucius finished with him, flopping down beside him. Harry was horribly tiered after being ridden like that. He found that wizards have more stamina then muggles, or maybe it was just this man and the few other wizards he'd serviced. He'd had to wear lots of make-up to hide his scar. But before falling asleep he whispered to no one in particular.

"Nur eine hübsche Hure, just a pretty whore."

Voldemort entered his chambers to find them smelling strongly of old sex and blood. He ran quickly to his room, almost afraid of what he was sure to find. He swung open wide the door, inhaling as he did. The smell was so much stronger here. But there was an under current of violence to it now, almost a charge in the air that would shock him, past the point of pain, into pleasure.

The sight before him made him suck in his breath. Harry law naked on the bed, surrounded by a small pool of his own drying blood. The position he was left in was more then a little obscene. And yet with his eyes closed and his face torn in peaceful lines, he looked angelic, a true angel amongst men. An angel fallen from grace, or yet an angel disgraced by the greed and lust of mortal men.

The Dark Lord had of course seen this in his mind, visions. But it is one thing to see it in the minds eyes, then to look upon is with fresh eyes and smell it with open nostrils.

"Oh, my Harry, what life have you lived, what life have I given you?" said Voldemort in a whisper of tongues. He'd tried to take Harry away from it all. And yet in his own house, it happens and yet again young Harry is disgraced.

Then he froze, his earlier words coming back to him. His Harry? What? Did he really want this damaged boy with more emotionally baggage then a train and yet had the body of a youthful god? Did he really believe he could be with this boy? This saviour to the light+

A/n: so… questions, comments, concerns? Corrections. Sorry about the wait, I thought I hadn't finished and was putting it off until I had time. But then realised that it was finished so here it is. Hope you enjoyed it. REVIEW!

Another Poll

_Question: _should Harry become dark and evil, or should he be just Harry in a relationship with Voldy?

Review and tell me what you think. Please have a look at my other stories.


	10. Chapter 10

Severus Snape, best potion master in the realm, cursed loudly as he stalked down the hall, ready to hex anyone and everyone in his way. Luckily, or unfortunately depending on which way you look at it, he met no one on his way to the dark lord's chambers. Without knocking, screw the consequences, he walked in. Just because his alliances where now known doesn't mean he had to show any respect. Though a wise move to show respect, he wasn't in that great of a mood.

He walked in on a strange sight indeed, almost forgetting his bad mood entirely. the dark lord sat at the small dinning table staring at, or in the direction of, the bed. His eyes where open and unblinking, his mouth slightly agape. He looked shell shocked for some reason or another. But when Severus fallowed his gaze he understood why.

Harry Potter looked much the same as when they'd brought him in from his 'relatives' house. rapped, bleeding, bruised, abused and emotionally damaged. Hopefully this time, normal medical means could cure him of his physically injuries. He wasn't sure even all the healers in St. Mongo's could cure Mr. Potter mentally. Severus really had no idea what it would take to help this poor boy heal.

Knowing he had much more work to complete then he had thought 5 minutes ago, he set to work. First checking over the dark lord, who'd finally fallen out of his trance like state. And he had fallen quite latterly, off the chair. But while finding no physically problem, other then high blood pressure, which he told the dark lord to watch out for and control his sweet tooth.

He moved once again to ward the bed, and the unconscious Potter that lay upon it. he reminded him so fiercely of their last encounter that he had to stop and breath, lest the on slough of memories become too much. Fixing the minor cuts and bruises easily enough with a small healing charm or spell, he moved onto the important problem; Harry's anus. Although Severus had just recently healed that area, it was slightly more hazardous to Potter now because it ran the risk of infection. With guarded care, Severus turned the beaten boy over. Long gashes spilled down his back. They looked like the marks of a lover, in the throws of passion where the line between pain and pleasure was blurry and unseen. He fallowed the still bleeding scratches to the boy's ass. After wiping away the blood, so he could actually see the anus, he discovered very little allocation.

"it seems, my lord, that who ever did this, carefully prepared , either themselves or young Mr. Potter before hand," said Snape to the dark lord once again sitting in his chair. The first thing Snape checked was for lubrication, he found none. Not all that surprising. The perpetraitor obviously wanted their own 'equipment' prepared, it was a sigh of dominance in a couple. If they were equally prepared then they were partneres, equals in the relationship. Severus knew this because most of his relations had been dominate submissive, he being dominate of course.

He told the dark lord of the information he'd gathered on the boy. Voldemort listened intently, rubbing his cheek in a clear sign of agitation.

"thanksss Ssevrusss," replied the dark lord when the potion master had finished his report. Muttering several cleaning spells Severus tidied the boy up, then placed the blanket over him, to cover his nakedness. Voldemort soft voice floated to Snape's ears as he finished his task.

"come ssit, tell me of your meeting with the old fool. What newz do you have to report?"

"just as I arrived pandemonium was occurring. The aged idiot silenced his order and I told him what I 'believed' had happened. I told him there was no plan to capture the young Potter boy, or at lest none that I was privy too. I also told him id caught no sign of the boy. I asked him whether the wards had been breeched. But no, apparently they have a squib liking next door to the boy. How they kept that secreted from me, I do not know. Maybe I was not as trusted as I thought. It will take some effort to regain some credibility, maybe you could stage a raid that I could tell them about."

Just then Harry started to wake, or at lest move around on the sheets and moan. The dark lord sat up in one fluid motion, quickly, hiding his face.

"I'll jest leave you to attend him then Severuss," said Voldemort as he walked out, leaving no time to hear Severus Snape's protest of," my lord… wait… but I've…" he slumped down in defeat. He curses several times, in different languages, but mostly in English. He jumped when a voice replied to the statements.

"I am impressed, professor Snape, I myself can only swear in English, German, Latin and Parseltougne. Though I don't really think that last one counts," said the newly woken brunette.

"Why doesn't snake language count Mr. Potter. I know you can speak it, hell the whole world does. And it is a different language as far as everyone is concerned," asked Snape.

"Because, professor, it sounds like English to me, with slight hissing at the end of certain words," replied Harry, perfectly at ease in the sheet he was wearing. Coincidently it was the only thing he was wearing, not that it bothered him much. When he shifted positions, the potion master seemed to blush and turn his head away. Harry looked down to note that shifting had bared his chest, and a good deal of thigh. He just shrugged his shoulders trying not to let it bother him. But when he saw the faint signs of a blush on the usually pale professor, he couldn't help but tease, in the only way he knew how. He was very good at seduction lets just say.

Running his hand along his side in what he knew was a provocative manner. His hand fingered the sheet that covered him. Playing delicate fingers in a dance across flesh and silk. He let the sheet drop before slowly pulling it back up sensually. His eyes never having left the man before him. He noticed how Severus's eyes fallowed the movement of his long thin fingers across his body. The potion master sat down rather fast from his standing position. Severus Snape, Harry knew, liked women, and yet there was just something, a "je ne sais pas," that attracted everyone to him. Harry smirked, a very Slytherin expression.

"Having trouble standing, Severus," purred Harry. Professor Snape shuttered when he heard his own name roll off Harry's tongue. He made it sound so dirty, down right sinful. There was so much weight in that one world, it conveyed a terrible amount of emotion. The potion master decided to change the subject, slightly, before he lost control… of the conversation.

"Who raped you? Asked Snape, deciding to be direct and blunt. He'd never left a Potter throw him off balance, while no more then what was already off anyways.

The change in Harry was instantaneous. He went ridged and his facial features closed down. His hand came up and tugged the sheet closer to him. When he spoke though, his voice was clear and unwavering.

"Who said I was raped, professor," he said in a hard tone, not really making it a question, more a statement. Snape raised his eyebrow in question and sneered with his lips.

"With the state you where in Potter, it could not have been consensual," anger added lit to the voice. Harry regarded him firmly with a glare.

"I am a whore professor, in case you didn't notice, one sixth of the year. You cannot rape a whore!"

"Rape is rape Potter. Just because you say you're a whore does not justify the action," replied Snape.

"I am not saying I am a whore, sir. It's what I am. After being pimped out by my own bleeding relatives for longer then I care to remember, I know nothing else. I am a whore, Severus Snape, I have always been a whore. You just weren't able to see it."

"Pardon me for asking Mr. Potter."

"please, call me Harry," interrupted the boy, most of his anger forgotten. He couldn't hold his anger, it usually just got him in trouble so he learned to let it go.

"ok, Harry," said Snape tentatively, "how did you manage to conceal your… difference at Hogwarts? Not even the great Headmaster Dumbledore knew." The last was said with massive sarcasm.

"all quite simple really, I observed people," was Harry's frank reply.

"I do not understand?"

"As a young child I had to adapt quickly to basically any given situation. Hogwarts was just one of many. By acting and reacting as the others around me, people assumed there was nothing different about me. by observing the other people in the same situation as I, I was able to assume the correct way o0f behaviour. there was only one situation, a rather major one actually, that I had to learn completely on my own."

"And which one, Harry, was that?"

"I thought that obvious Severus, can I call you Severus?" asked Harry, interrupting himself.

"Very well."

"thank you Severus, that does mean something to me," Snape only inclined his head in acknowledgement and in motion to continue. "I had no role mode, as you might call it, for being a whore."

"oh," was all the potion master thought to say. They sat in silence, neither breaking the rather comfortable noiselessness that had fallen between them. Then Severus realised Harry had managed to change thte subject without him even having realised. He turned his head sharpley to repriem the youth. The boy was already smiling innocently at him. Snape scowled back.

To be continued…

A/n: I am going to end it here. Hope you liked that. More on Harry's personality in the next chapter, as you can see he is slight! OOC. Well I want you all to update and tell me how fabulous I am, yeah I know I am full of my self. Please have a look at my other stories. REVIEW!


	11. Chapter 11

Two people, a world renown sneering potion master and a beautiful young world saviour that also happened to be a whore, sat or lay in the most evil dark lord of the time's bed chamber. They both tried to avoid each others eyes, and yet seem non-challent about it. Snape cleared his throat, his third attempt to start a conversation. Harry ignored it, as he had the other attempts. Then a question came to mind and he turned to his elder.

"Severus, what side are you on?" although Harry didn't specify what he was talking about, he could have been taking about a board game or a game of chess, it was obvious what he was implying.

"Now? While considering Voldemort and Dumbledore are of near equal power, there would be no end to this war. That if of course until one of them died of some invariable disease such as wizard flu or even death. But then take into account a third party, yourself Mr. Potter."

"I told you call me Harry."

"Alright, when you are brought into all this, which ever side you are on will undoubtedly win. So far the Headmaster has taken your siding for granted. So to answer your inquisition of whose side am I on, I answer with I am on your side." finished Snape made it sound unimportant that he'd just given his life to Harry, telling him that his alliance rested in his tiny hands.

"And… And if I stay neutral?" came the hesitant question.

"Then it would probably be within my best interest to be neutral too. Though I would dabble on both sides near the end, that would give me power and fame when I am on the victorious side."

"A Slytherin to the end."

"Of course."

"have you ever been loyal to Dumbledore, or have you just always been loyal to yourself?"

"at one point in time I wanted repentance for my numerous sins, I went to Dumbledore and for sometime I was loyal to him. But what he held over me now doesn't bother me as much as it once did. But that also meant at a time I was loyal to Voldemort."

"Why'd you join him?"

"Why are you asking so many meddlesome questions?"

"Because I want to know."

"Brat. I concede I shall tell you. I, like so many other Death Eathers, believed in the cause. But then I grew weary of his half truths and sought my own proof. I found they were much the same as wizards. They have actually been able to adapt better then we have to the changing of the times. New break through happen almost daily. They are intelligent life forms and don't deserve to be slaughtered like cattle, or treated like dirt. Then I thought of all the infants, children, brothers and sisters, mother and father, aunts and uncles I'd killed. I couldn't take the guilt of it all. I went to seek out Albus."

"so you went for the cause?" came the low question, almost a statement from the subdued boy.

"Yes, I wanted to help the cause. I wanted to save the wizarding would. But let me ask you a question in turn Harry. What do you want? What could drive you enough that would sway you? Vengeance against Albus? Against your relatives? What. Mr. Potter, boy-who-lived do you want?" Snape was looking intently at Harry, truly curious. It was quiet for a long moment. Severus wasn't sure he was going to answer the query at all. But then the almost silent whisper of a word escaped the boys bruised lips.

"Power."

It was not what the potion master had expected. He breathed out the question, "Why?" before he could stop himself.

"so I can be something, other then what I am?" Snape didn't know what he was talking about. Did he want the power so he wouldn't be a whore? Severus was just about to ask. But the boy chocked out more words that made a world of sense.

"Helpless, Severus. I don't want to be helpless anymore, or ever again."

Shocked was the only way to describe how Snape felt. This 15 year old boy, with more power then Dumbledore and Voldemort, wanted more power because he thought himself helpless. He was anything but, really, he just didn't know it. Harry had apparently taken his silence the wrong way. He got up and walked into the bathroom. Several moments later Snape could hear the bath running.

But Severus wasn't finished yet, he needed to know if the boy would join the dark side. so with a loud knock he entered the bathroom, muttering some silencing, privacy and locking charms. He did not want to be heard or interrupted. Especially by the man that owned these rooms, the dark lord.

"Mr. Potter I was not finished talking to you," he sneered.

"And yet I was finished talking to you?" Questioned the boy as he slipped into the bath.

"Well then, you won't be disappointed, because I have to talk to you about something… Harry," he added with some hesitation. Harry huffed and pouted like a little child, Severus was happy to see. It meant not all his innocence was lost.

"I need to talk to you about which side of the war you will choose."

"What do you mean, it's not like I really have a choice in the matter now do I? I am the poster boy for the light, saviour of all wizarding kind," he sneered with disgust.

"And that is exactly the reason I must speak with you about your options. Harry you do have a choice. You can choose to forsake the light, the people that left you with those animals. I will not disillusion you; the supposed dark side is not all hugs and kiss's. though we both know that's not the light side either. There is the 3rd option of staying neutral, taking the Slytherin way out and leaving well enough alone. I must press upon you the seriousness of this decision and that you are the deciding factor in this war. Where Dumbledore will treat you as a pawn if you go back, Voldemort will give you what you wish if you stay. And staying neutral you will be your own person for probably the first time everin your life. That is all that I have to say." This was the first time Harry had heard Snape talk about something other then potions so passionately about. But he really didn't know what to say on the subject that was presently being discussed. So to avoid the matter he did the only thing he could think of that would stop the conversation, the only thing he knew how to do properly.

"Why are you talking of such things now," pouted Harry, raising himself out of the tub. He propped his leg up just in time. Giving him the illusion of being covered, at lest some what. Severus could have moved only inches to see what the boy was hiding, but he didn't.

"this must be boring you to pieces," said Harry silkily, sliding down the tile on the bathroom floor so his chest was on the ground.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Snape asked, his voice high and a little shaky.

"Something fun?" replied Harry in a question, eyes shinning in innocence.

"You don't have to do this Harry," Snape said in a soft voice. "You can just say no and I'll stop talking about it."

"You're saying no?" asked Harry in a small and puzzled voice. He quickly grasped a towel and wrapped it around his waste, looking eerily like a lost child that had been hurt. He seemed almost close to tears, Severus didn't understand.

"I am saying no? to what?" Severus questioned confused, what had he just refused, well other then sex, but it wasn't like Harry actually wanted to have sex with him.

"my body, you don't want it. I know you want me; you reacted to me in the bedroom. But now you're cold and caring and you don't want me. What do you want from me?" Harry sobbed, unable to stop. No one had ever said no to him. It wasn't that he was mad at the potion master fur refusing. They where tears of relief and of past pain, tears of happiness and longing. His pride wasn't hurt, it had finally started to mend.

He felt warm hands reach around his back and he stiffened, thinking Severus had reconsidered. But they just wrapped him in a hug. The warm arms pulled him closed to the body they were attached too. Professor Snape sat there, Harry Potter wrapped in his warm embrace, sobbing and thought, _why me_?

And as it things couldn't get worse, the dark lord burst through his wards and opened the door. Wondering why the bathroom had been warded so heavily. Walking in on his Potion Master holding Harry Potter was not what he'd expected.

When Severus saw the expression on Voldemort's snake like face he said the only thing that came to mind. "This isn't what it looks lik!"

A/N: Terribly sorry for the wait. Funny thing is I've have this written out for about a week and only typed it up now. Really sorry. But well here it is and now the action is finally starting. New chapter you'll find out why the dark lord is so enraged. And hopefully more plot will be added. XD. Please REVIEW and go have a look at my other stories. REVIEW.


	12. Chapter 12

A/n: I am really sorry for the wait, but I had a contest to write. The story for that should already be up. If it's not then it will be up momentarily. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the long wait, somewhat.

The dark lord growled and walked out of his room. he didn't understand it, he felt jealous of Severus. Why? Because he had the saviour of the wizarding world in his arms? No, because he had Harry in his arms. He sat down, hard, on his chair and waited for the two offending men to come out. He had much to discus with them.

Meanwhile inside Harry was panicking. "Oh Merlin, Oh Merlin! What am I panicking? Right, the evil dark lord that saved you, just walked in on you trying to seduce his faithful servant. What's not wrong with that? What if he sent me home again? Decided I wasn't worth it?" Harry didn't want to face the dark lord, for once afraid of the evilest wizard in the world. Harry looked towards Snape, hopping to find comfort. He found none. His professor's face was as blank as an unpainted canvas, devoid of emotion, thoughts and feelings. There was no comfort to be found there.

While on the out side Snape face was, as earlier described, blank, his mind was certainly not. 'Crap. I knew the dark lord wanted Potter. I hope he doesn't kill me for this transgression.' He turned to the offending boy. He wanted to pin it all on the boy, but when he saw the panicked look on the saviours face he knew he couldn't do that. He signed drawing Harry's scattered attention to him.

"I will leave you to dress," said Snape, untangling himself from the boy. "Come out when you are done." He opened the door ajar and slipped through. The savour sighed, picked up the borrowed boxers and pulled them on. Next came his pants, but looking at his tear soaked shirt, decided against it. he pit on the robes, opened the front and with the last reserve of his courage slipped out the door.

When Snape came through the door, the dark lord didn't yell at him. Only glared like a sullen child.

"I didn't do anything," protested Severus immediately. Voldemort raised a brow. "Err… milord?" added Snape at the end.

"I doubt that."

"But I didn't, cast a truth spell over me!"

"Severus look at the boy. It's impossible not to do anything," insisted Tom.

"Why, My lord. I had no idea you thought of him like that," smirked Snape. "The saviour of the wizarding world and the most evil dark lord of the age, how truly ironic."

"Make no mistake Severus, I will hex you," threatened Voldemort. His attention was moved from Snape to Potter, as he came out the door.

Lord Voldemort appraised the image before him, and found him self liking that image. The pants, being Voldemort's were too large and rode low on his hips, the non-existing belt not helping maters much. The robes for the boy hadn't bothered to cover his smooth intoxicating chest, hung off the saviour perfectly even thought tailor specifically for the dark lord. And said dark lord couldn't say that Harry wasn't the most gorgeous being in the world.

"The shirt," explained Harry, interruption Tom's mussing, "was soaked."

"I'll get you another one," volunteered Severus.

"They're all dirty," exclaimed Voldemort, eyeing Severus. He got the message; the dark lord wanted an eye full. He turned back to the boy.

"Are you hungry Harry?"

"Err. A little," squeaked Harry. Voldemort called a house-elf.

"Could you please bring up some breakfast inky?" he said kindly to the old elf. Nodding enthusiastically the elf disappeared. When Tom looked up Harry was looking at him funny.

"You're nice to house elves," stated Harry curiously.

"Yes, they clean and cook for me, keep my house in order why wouldn't I?"

"because your promoting the message, 'we're purebloods we're better then all of you because our ancestors inbred.'" Before Voldemort could form a reply to oppose that particular statement the house elf popped back in. wobbling under the three enormous trays he had, he placed them on the table and bowed out.

"Everyone sit and eat," commanded Riddle in a hard voice. He lifted the cover of his food and began to eat. Severus and Harry sat wearily; joining the dark lord at his privet table was something new for both of them. Not because they were awed, but because he is a dark lord. They ate in silence, enjoying the delicious food. Once done, they retired to the sitting room, which doubled as a library. Sitting on black comfy couches, they sat in silence. Until Tom started the conversation.

"Harry, will you join me?" Voldemort did not like to beat around the bush, so to speak.

"Do we have to talk about this?"

"Yes Harry we do."

"Well I haven't decided yet. Let's talk about something else."

"Very we. How well are you doing in your studies?"

"OK, I guess. Though I keep failing potions. I really don't understand how," Harry looked sideways at Snape. He was surprised to hind that he was blushing. Snape spoke up first.

"If you'd pay attention you wouldn't have."

"I do pay attention. He teacher doesn't like me," explained Harry to Tom. He made a sound, neither approving or disapproving.

"But, back to the matter at hand," insisted Tom.

"that's so boring," pouted Harry prettily. He passed his hand from his hair, down his face and swirled his right nipple, then slowly down his taunt stomach, again circling his belly button. Finally his fingered dipped into his pants slightly, so that he was now holding the top of his pants. "Let's do other things," insinuated Harry, the sexual innuendo not missed by either of the two men.

Snape opened his mouth to tell the boy off, but the dark lord stopped him. It looked like the older man's resolve had wavered and fallen. "Get out Severus, I don't like an audience," growled Tom. Harry smiled, realising he was getting what he wanted. Severus wanted to protest, knowing that this wasn't exactly right, but a command was an order he had to fallow. Getting up resignedly he stalked out of the room. Letting his displeasure at the other two known as he let the door bang shut.

The boy got up off his chair and sauntered over to Riddle, his one time enemy. He stopped in front of the lord, looking down at his through long lashes. He said in a seductive voice, one that made Voldemort rock hard just hearing it, the words not helping.

"You want to have sex with me," Harry stated, making the should be question a statement. It was the other words however that got to the powerful man. "You want to fuck me, push inside of me, leave me breathless calling your name. naked and spread, you want me." the last said with force and conviction. He let the robe slip slowly down his back off his shoulders. He stood in unbuttoned pants, never having done them up, slung low on his slender hips. "Do you want me Tom?" the name rolling off hid tongue in a sultry moan. The saviour started to sway his hips back and forth, to a beat only he could hear. The pants slipped lower with each swirl of hip motion, Voldemort was mesmerised, he wouldn't stop the boy now, even if he didn't want this. The boy could easily make straight men bend back wards, legs spread with only a glance.

Completely lost in the moment Voldemort stood quickly, gathering the smaller boy in his arms. Ducking down he kissed the boy, but before he could reach lips, the saviour turned his head side ways, he kissed Potter's neck. Up and down, nibbling on his ear.

Harry moved them slowly towards the over large bed. Riddle found himself in nothing but his pants, Harry in nothing at all. Looking down at the boy he couldn't help but whisper in his ear, "You are gorgeous, the most beautiful image I've ever seen."

Harry only whispered back, "I know." He pulled Tom on to the bed, on top of him. "Fuck me Tom, you know you want to," groaned Harry in parseltongue. The dark lord was utterly undone by the simple hissing. Not even realising that Harry himself never said he wanted this.

As the dark lord started exploring his body, Harry did something he hadn't done since learning to close off his mind, he stayed. In his mind enjoying the feeling of the soft butterfly touches from Tom.

With Tom on top and Harry underneath, they used their hands to explore the now thick and ready shafts. Harry expertly flied Riddle over, sliding down his stomach to reach the man's cock. He licked the head, then suddenly engulfed it all in one shot, earning his a shout of pleasure from the dark lord. He grazed his teeth up the shaft, the man moaned deep in his throat. Never one much for foreplay, Harry slithered back up so that their pelvises were at the same level. He grinded his hips in to Tom's. "Penetrate me Tom, I want you inside me," whispered Harry. Obliging Voldemort turned them over again, leaving Harry on his chest. He used a quick spell to lubricate the boy's ass whole, then slowly massaged a finger into it. as soon as he was able to comfortably fit in three fingers, he replaced his hand with something much more satisfying. Taking his time he nudged the head in slowly. But he didn't expect Harry to slam backwards, taking the whole member side him. He cried out, then began to move, slow at first, but with some urging on Harry's part, began to rock faster. The dark lord climaxed when Harry made a particularly sexy noise that Voldemort couldn't even begin to describe. Harry coming only seconds after. They collapsed on the bed, the dark lord onto of Harry, still lodged inside the boy.

They sucked, they fucked and overall had a good time. But not once did the boy let the dark lord hiss him on the mouth. When they were down, while done for the fourth time, Voldemort leaned in and kissed Harry firmly on the mouth, wanting to taste those delicious lips, that said his name so nicely. He managed to connect for about four seconds before Harry ripped away with a strangled cry, glaring murder at Riddle.

"That wasn't very nice Tom," stated Potter angrily, moving away from the warm body that embraced him. Tom almost whimpered at the loss of contact. "You couldn't have done that," whispered Harry looking down, losing his angry expression and adopting a wishful one.

"And why not?" asked the dark lord bewildered, not comprehending how he'd messed up. He assumed it was the kiss, because that's when Harry pulled away, but he wasn't that bad of a kisser really.

"Because I liked it, and you don't mean it!" Enraged Harry got up and went into the bathroom, he seemed to like it in there. Or maybe he only knew how to solve problems by distracting people with sex or running away.

Voldemort, the high and mighty dark lord was truly lost. He'd just had incredible sex and then kissed said person he was having sex with. The boy exploded and ran into the bathroom as if insulted. Tom buried his head in his pillow, hoping to suffocate himself before the boy came out. Then he wouldn't have to deal with this new problem. Didn't he have enough problems, trying to take over the world and all. He went over what Harry said in his mind, '_you don't meat it.' _Not what the Hell was that supposed to mean. And then it him, rules and regulations of whores and prostitutes. "Never kiss a whore unless you love them." Having had many whores before Tom was well aware of their rules. And he'd just messed the largest one up, royally.

Swiftly grabbing a rove and throwing it on he knocked on the newly appeared door. "Look Harry. I am sorry. Please forgive me. I won't do it again. I know what you consider yourself and am deeply apologetic for breaking you rules." Severus had told Voldemort about his conversation with the boy. And it broke his non-existing heart to think of this wild spirited boy as an escort.

Harry shocked him by coming out, in P.J.'s and looking down asked, a slight quiver in his voice, "s'alright. Could… could we just forget about it and do to sleep?"

"Sure Harry, what ever you wish," replied the dark lord, not liking the submissive behaviour he was receiving from the saviour. He wanted the old Harry back, the defiant and spirited boy that turn after turn defeated him. Only now he wanted to penetrate him, instead of killing him.

Voldemort made to get into bed, but Harry stopped him. "Err.. would you mind terribly putting some clothes on?" raising an eyebrow at the boy, he did as asked and slipped some pants on.

"Satisfactory?" asked Tom, turning around slowly. Blushing Harry nodded and crawled into bed.

When both were settled and time had passed, Tom said, "I don't regret kissing you Harry, I hope you know that." Lucky for him, the saviour was already asleep or he'd have been much colder in the morning.

A/N: hope this made up for the slight non update period I made you all go through. If you could give me some ideas about what you'd like to see in this story that would help because I am running out of ideas. I still have some left but nothing in the long run. REVIEW please and look at my other stories. Thanks. Cya next time.

right well before i go. lots of people have been yelling at me to get a beta, so anyone willing to offer their services, send me a message from my profile, not just a reivew because i'll though i read them all i sort of need a beta for all my stories and would rather only one then many. anyways what ever. enjoy the story.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry woke softly, assessing his body, looking for injury. He didn't find any,and it greatly surprised him. His internal clock told him it was still summer. He shifted slightly and the warmth he'd earlier dismissed made a sound of protest. Clients never stayed in bed with him and slept, nor left him in such good condition. Then the memories of last night and the day before came into focus; the saviour smirked. Who knew it would be so easy to distract an all powerful dark lord.

But enough of that, he had a decision to make. Risking waking Tom, Harry left the bed and paddled to the wardrobe. He shifted through it until he found a pair of sleeping pants. Donning them he went towards the wall, remembering what Voldemort had said about doors. As he approached a door swung open and he walked inside. He'd thought of a sitting room, where he could relax and think, he got it, sort of. The boy entered a library with a fire place and a large leather arm chair, fit for a king, or dark lord with delusions of grandeur. Sinking down into the comfortable chair he closed his eyes and tried to make sense of his erratic thoughts.

Organising his thoughts took longer then he would have liked it to. But as he did, he realized that he had three options to choose from. The first was too leave, go back to being abused and neglected by the light, but be with whom he considered, or was lead to believe, were friends and family.

Option two was staying put, letting Voldemort do what ever he wanted. He'd have turned his back on everything he'd ever known, but he'd be alive. He wouldn't be hurt, or be abused or neglected, all good things in Harry's book.

Yet he mustn't forget the 'Malfoy incident.' Nothing too unusual about that, actually it was the norm in the boy's summer, except the dark lord did promise he wouldn't harm him. Was he just going to send his minions to do it for him? Potter wasn't sure, and he didn't exactly want to find out. Dark lords aren't exactly known for keeping their word.

And finally the third and only alternative option he could think of was of course to do what he did best, seduce Tom Riddle. That way he'd fall madly in love with the saviour, promising him anything he wanted, gifting the world, in this case probably quite literally. This, like all plans, had ups and downs; Voldemort could offer him a world, but what condition would that world be in? The world was more broken then anyone knew, the people did not need more violence, war, destruction and anger, it already had plenty.

But if the saviour could do it properly, make the dark lord so interested in him, then he'd forget the whole 'lets dominate the world and make everyone our slaves' plan.

"Doch nu ein Hure schoin," Harry reminded himself sulkily, recalling what Lucius had whispered in his ear. He snorted quietly, looking at his dirty hands. How could he value himself so highly, when no one else seemed to even see him. Did he honestly think he was more then 'just a pretty whore'? To think anyone would forget anything for him, Harry bleeding Potter, the boy saviour, the boy whore. He overestimated his own value. The boy knew he wasn't worth shit, the Dursley's had told him as much, and more. But if there was one thing the saviour excelled at, it was seducing those that didn't want to be; even his uncle had acknowledged his skill, though he didn't exactly make it out to be a good thing.

Another thought came to Harry, what if he didn't make the dark lord forget about world domination, what if he just changed the out come at the end. Voldemort would win; the boy would make sure of that, even if he had to sleep with Dumbledore to get it done, the dark lord would win. Then while Voldemort was winning, he could slowly change the man's ideas; muggles didn't need to be killed, just shunned more; muggle-borns didn't need to be enslaved, just be re-educated; purebloods didn't need to rule, just be looked upon highly. It could work.

He'd first have to deceive the heir of Slytherin, the person who invented suspicious behaviour, but after that a complete breeze. The dark lord would first have to believe he'd gone dark thought, that could take some convincing. Harry's best bet for that would be to get revenge upon someone, then slowly start using more and more dark magic, until he looked consumed by it.

And he knew exactly how to set the plan in motion, he'd need to tell Voldemort about his small run in with Lucius though. Then he'd request doing the torturing himself. His plan was flawless. The saviour grinned at the mirror on the wall, watching as his reflection changed from broken little whore, to scheming dark prince. And that's exactly what he planned to be while traipsing around in his new role, he'd be in control. He wanted to be higher then the death eaters, have more control, but not just be the dark lord's whore.

He'd be loyal for the time being, he'd continue to fuck Tom, but it would cost the dark lord his ideas, and his heart.

It still didn't solve the problem of what he'd be, the dark lord would never approve of a co-ruler. He'd have to be second in command, one of his demands for changing sides. After all the dark lord would need a new one when the boy was through with Malfoy. There wouldn't be enough left to command with.

His plan fully formed, the saviour sat and thought hard on a title for himself. He planned on being as intimidating as Voldemort, and to do that he'd need to leave his weak name behind. In any case, Potter represented the light side, a firm supporter of saving the human race and puppies. Harry was the name of some worthless whore who got passed around for anyone interested.

The Red Consort however, was always in control, black to the soul. "The red consort," the boy said, liking the way it rolled off his tongue. Now he only had to convince the dark lord and his followers.

For once, the boy who lived eyes sparkled in pure joy. 'this was going to be fun,' thought Harry in his head. Rising from the comfortable and overdone armchair, the saviour glided into the bedroom.

It was time for the Dark Lord to rise.

A/N: hey, hope you like this. Sorry it's short but it sort of foreshadowing much of the rest of the story. So if this isn't the way you wanted to story to go, I am telling you now. I finally figured out what I wanted to do with the story. Go me! I might change it later on, there will be several surprises to come. The next update, unfortunately, won't be for a while, I am going to England for 3 weeks and won't be back tell the end of august. But I'll definitely update before the second week of September. REVIEW thanks, and have a check at my other stories.


	14. Chapter 14

When the young boy walked in, and with determination, the Dark Lord was already awake and sitting up. He wore a self satisfied smirk on his pallid face, one that Harry had seen many times before, notably on those that he had just screwed. The smirked hinted at the darker side of pleasure, things that no one mentioned in public. It stabbed at his heart to see Tom wearing that smirk, but he pushed the feeling away and stalked towards the bed.

This was business, just business.

He climbed on to the four poster bed and crawled on all fours towards Voldemort. Harry pushed the Dark Lord down, a swirl of sex, heat and possession in his gaze. He had one shot to make things look real. That so, the boy straddled the older man and leant down so his ruddy mouth was next to the latter's ear.

"I've decided," the Boy Who Lived said in a husky voice to Lord Voldemort; Tom immediately went ridged beneath Harry.

"And…" he prompted as the other fell silent. The younger wizard sat up, still straddling the slender body under him, his hands pressed against the naked chest there.

"I pledge my alliance to you," Harry stated, slowly and with quiet reverence, as he softy trailed a hand down the thin chest. "But," he said holding up a hand to silence the words that he knew were coming, "I want be your consort; I will not just be your whore. Make me your second."

The last was not a request, but a command. Voldemort looked thoughtful for a moment, and the slowly said "Lucius Malfoy is my second."

Harry smiled a small smirk and purred, "There's something you ought to know about dear old Luc. You remember that first night, or was it the second…?" He paused to think but then desisted. "At any rate," he continued, "it doesn't really matter. It was the night after you healed me."

The Dark Lord nodded in understanding and Harry resumed his story.

"It was Lucius that bloodied me up again. He undid all the nice hard work you and Snape did."

"Professor Snape," Voldemort corrected a little distractedly, as a mild wash of shock shook him momentarily, before blind rage took over. With his voice deadly calm and his bloody eyes blazing, he snarled, "That arrogant fool! He should have known not have touch what is mine!"

Something in Harry fell; he presumed it was his heart; he had been hoping that he meant more to Tom than just a possession, but it appeared not. Nevertheless, it was business, not love, which was on the table, so Harry shoved his feelings aside.

"Well, he did," he said bluntly, "and I want him punished."

Voldemort, without looking at Harry, muttered, and more to himself than anything, "I promise you, he will hurt for a _very_ long time..."

"Yes, he will," replied the former, who stopped his hands from moving.

"He shall be summoned and punished immediately," Tom agreed darkly, trying to sit up as Harry pushed him back down.

"You misunderstand, my Lord," the young wizard reprimanded his lord, "I wish to deal with Lucius personally. He hurt me and I want to bring him _agony_." He looked pointedly at his paler fellow.

Voldemort however looked more than ready to burst out laughing.

_Harry Potter, the poster boy for the light, dish out pain properly?_ _Was that not something to laugh about?_

The fleeting image of Harry the Whore passed through his wicked mind. The tiniest trace of humour faded rapidly as he thought about just what the boy above him was capable of. It was with careful words that Tom spoke up.

"If you wish it, Potter, then so be it. Your demands are acceptable. After you dress we will venture to the throne room and call Lucius."

For the second time he struggled to get up, but yet again Harry stopped him, though this time it was by smacking his hand on the chest that he was leaning on. He had just remembered something.

"I want a title." He personally thought that he sounded somewhat petulant, and Voldemort cocked a bald eyebrow.

"I take it that you already have something in mind?" he inquired dryly.

"Naturally," the boy answered in the same, almost sardonic tone.

Tom sighed resignedly. "Say it then."

Harry smiled.

"The Red Consort." He purred, before snapping at the snort Tom let out, "it's better then rearranging the letters in my name, _Voldemort_."

The man in question glared balefully at his younger companion, before saying snappishly, "I unwillingly acknowledge your newest demand and accept it grudgingly."

The Boy Who Lived smirked and left the bed. The Dark Lord remained alone in his bed as watched Harry sift for a shirt in the large wardrobe. Every so often he would hold out random garments, eyeing them closely before he put them back moments later. It was with a huff that Harry turned around and placing his hands on his hips; he glowered hotly at the older wizard, who merely raised a hairless eyebrow again.

"You have nothing red," Harry stated in flat annoyance, and as though like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as well as the stupidest. Tom inclined his head to acknowledge that his more youthful fellow was correct, and the act frustrated the recipient all the more. He pointed first at himself, but the Dark Lord just replied with a politely puzzled look.

"How the fuck am I supposed to be the _RED_ Consort if there are no red robes anywhere?" Harry stormed, plastering the word red with particular emphasis.

Voldemort merely gave him an expression of mild comprehension; the other just shook his head in exasperation and dropped his sleeping pants. He was conscious of the gaze focussed upon him as he and dressed; he chose to wear nothing underneath what clothes he had selected for the day. On finishing and returning his attention to the bed, he found such raw lust in the ruby eyes that he decided that it might be prudent to wait outside for the Dark Lord.

It only took a few minutes of patient waiting before Tom had collected himself, dressed, and rejoined Harry, who had spent his time leaning with cool boredom against the wall. He straightened as Voldemort entered the corridor.

"Where to?" Harry asked, falling into step beside Tom; he had no idea where the throne room was.

"Severus' laboratory."

"Why?"

"Because he Flooed me to say that my potion is ready."

The ever curious teenager probed further.

"And what does this potion do?"

Voldemort did not pause in his stride, but he leered creepily and said, "Now that would be telling, my Crimson Consort-"

"It's Red Consort," Harry corrected instantly.

The pale, older wizard adopted a look of mystery as he said softly, "Perhaps to others…"

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

The pair strode closer to the dungeons, and there, the laboratories, where potions were experimented, invented and created en masse and with specialist intentions.

"It means," Voldemort told him at last, "I have my own name for you. You are _my_ consort after all."

Harry pulled a childish face.

"Well, if that's the case, then I think I should make up an irritating nickname for you."

"The change made was insignificant; therefore the 'nickname', as you call it, would only have to be a small change."

There was a moment of silence, before Harry said, "Voldamour; it literally means 'flight of love'." He got no reply.

When they finally got to the dungeons and had descended into the fume scented dankness, they found Snape in an aggravated mood. He was unresponsive as they pushed open the door to the smallest laboratory; he was peering grumpily into a smokeless cauldron.

"You are late. The valuable ingredients and my more valuable time was almost wasted with your tardiness." Snape intoned with his back to his guests.

"Caution is advisable, Severus," hissed Voldemort in warning.

The Potions Master sighed audibly and probably rolled his eyes as he said, without conviction or apology, "Yes, milord. It will never likely to happen again." His grovelling was terrible and his attention distant; his black eyes never left the simmering substance.

Tom rolled his eyes irritably and all but glared at his toiling servant. It was unwise to hurt the man, he knew, as he was the best that he had access to; to boot, and unfortunately so, Severus Snape knew it. The matter only helped to make his sarcasm all the more impertinent and wilful.

"I would prefer to get on with this today, Severus," Voldemort cut in curtly, and the sallow man finally averted his focus for long enough to grab a rag and clean his hands. Throwing the scrap of cloth down, he proceeded to disappear into an antechamber for a moment, before returning with a copper goblet. With ginger care he ladled some of the vomit hued contents from the cauldron and into the undecorated cup, until it was filled to the brim. The Potions Master then presented it to the Dark Lord, who took it with a curled lip; the stench was quite horrid.

"You will need to take two more doses after this one. The changes should then commence almost immediately from there."

On finishing with iVoldemort, he turned to Harry, and asked snidely, "And how is the Chosen One faring today? Does he need to be patched up again? I am a potioneer, not a Healer you know."

"You are what ever I command you to be," Tom butted in sharply as he thrust the emptied goblet back at Snape, another warning flicker passing through his narrowed eyes. He refused to tolerate any abuse, verbal or otherwise, towards his self promoted consort; the greasy man seem to realise that fact wordlessly, and Harry himself said nothing.

Voldemort choked down the two other servings of potion, an expression of great distaste plastered across his bloodless face. As he passed the mug, empty for the third and final time, to his waiting servant, he was suddenly seized by a fit. He collapsed barely a second after he had relinquished his grasp on the copper mug; he fell to the floor thrashing and writhing in unbearable pain. He fought to make little noise though, as it was undignified for a man of his elated status to do so.

Tom Riddle's skin began to crawl, tiny bubbles appearing on the surface, like his skin was boiling water. They boiled and liquefied pouring over to completely cover the man in black liquid. Not a drop it dripped to the flagstone floor. It never left the surface of his skin. It was like his aura in liquid form, re-creating his outer shell.

Harry, trying to be true to his title, attempted to rush over and aid the man he had made himself the consort of, but the Potions Master caught ahold of his robes before he could take a second step. The man insisted that he wait.

After a short while, the violent spasms tamed themselves and became mere twitches at irregular intervals. The black substance absorbed into the body it had briefly mummified, and it receded into the white flesh that was undeniably the Dark Lord. Even before it had fully gone, it was apparent that an entirely new person, in looks only, was lying at their feet. The only visible remnants of the old facade were the crimson eyes that were boring into emerald green ones.

Severus Snape, who was not involved in the staring competition, stalked around the newly embodied Lord Voldemort. He bent to poke and prod the improved wizard, and Tom seemed not to mind; that, or he was otherwise occupied, which Harry thought to be more likely.

The Potions Master completed his examination by manually checking his Lordship's vitals, before he straightened and proclaimed, "I pronounce you capable of leaving me in peace. You will not drop dead, so if you would kindly leave my laboratory. I have many potions to brew, most of them for you, milord."

"These are my laboratories, Severus!" Voldemort snapped automatically, "I merely allow you to use them." He stood up and smoothed his robes a tad vainly. "Bring me a mirror; I wish to see what I have become."

Harry complied, although he was still rather dumbstruck by what he had witnessed. He handed over a mirror that was sitting conveniently on the nearby workbench; mostly likely Snape had brought it out from a cupboard somewhere for this exact purpose, as he hardly seemed to be the sort of man to preen himself daily.

The Dark Lord snatched at the mirror and held it to admire his new face. He hid his hesitation, despite that he was almost afraid seeing his old and ugly self. He wanted to have the charming visage that he had had before many, many years before. To his joy, he was not disappointed. Although he still had his unnatural red eyes, he found that they were now framed by long dark lashes, which were beneath surprisingly delicately arched brows. He continued to assess the differences for several minutes.

Before, he had been scaly and bald. Now he had a full head of raven coloured locks that fell to his shoulder blades. His skin was smoother and maybe just a touch more coloured than it had been. The rest of his body was no longer a frame of bones, though he lacked the musculature that the likes of Crabbe and Goyle had.

_Thank Circe._

He had a competent amount though, and through his robes his could feel that his chest had filled out somewhat. He might not have been the Adonis of his own youth, but overall his new body was not the worst to be living in.

If he had asked Harry Potter, he would have found that the boy could have and would have readily agreed with him that his new form was indeed rather delectable. With his snowy skin, ebony hair and full mouth, the Boy Who Lived would have avidly said that he was now down right fuckable.

"It is satisfactory," Tom stated in the end. He did not want to confess his absolute pleasure and delight, particularly to Snape of all people.

"I'll say," murmured their teenage third party, who licked his lips, as he gazed intently at the Dark Lord, who stood and approached him; he tilted the bespectacled head upwards.

"Will this do?" He whispered teasingly to his consort.

"It is satisfactory," Harry mocked with a hungry smirk gracing his own full lips.

Voldemort smiled.

"Then I shall keep it. But the clock ticks and we have things to get done. Good day, Severus." Tom swept imperiously out of the underground chamber with the Red Consort following along silently behind him.

Just as the door closed Snape heard Harry ask his former enemy, "Isn't it an oxymoron for you say good day?"

His voice was innocent enough, but the Potions Master knew he was teasing the other man. Apparently the latter was unaware of the jolly jest, because he said sourly, "Shut up, you ponce."

Harry laughed at him.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading. I know I am getting this out a little later than I said I would-it took me a while to type, what with the hard courses I am taking this year and all. But I am making time so it's ok. Thanks to my beta's for looking this over. Please REVIEW this story when your done. The next instalment will be out somewhere in November I'd make it sooner but I have a shitload of projects that need doing and handing in in October. Thanks and REVIEW. though to be far i did get it out in september!


	15. Chapter 15

Snape felt a burning sensation around his neck, not his arm. Dumbledore's again then, he thought. Drying his hands, he pulled out an invisible chain from about his neck. He rubbed the pendant making it magically appear. The phoenix song hummer quietly around him, Severus rolled his eyes. This was Dumbledore's way of making him safe? The potion master was quite happy he was alone. Snape placed his thumb directly over the heart of the bird and whispered.

"Sweet tarts," which was not surprisingly also the password to the headmaster's office.

The world spun, Snape taped his foot in annoyance. He hopped this wouldn't take long; he had potions to brew and people to watch being tortured. Long day's schedule.

The world, in Snapes perspective, stopped spinning and the order of the phoenix came into view. The man wasn't sure which vision he liked better, the spinning nothing, or this? Unable to decide, he sneered at the nearest member and found a seat located in the darkest corner of the room.

The great man himself, eating lemon drops no less, emerged minutes later. Immediately fallowing the surrounding witches and wizards stopped talking, paying close attention to the man who had yet to ask for their attention. Snape would have rolled his eyes at such blanten display of respect and aw, but he'd seen the way some death eaters reacted to their lords arrival. Some people might have joined out of fear, others greed, but there were a select few that were there out of loyalty and respect. Not many, but again, a select few. Severus wasn't sure if the order stayed silent in awe or loyalty, only knowing it wasn't fear. He could respect that, he didn't, but he supposed he could. And he was sure at one point in time he probably had.

"If we could all lend our ears to listen for a moment, this will be brief," said Dumbledore unnecessarily. Several new wrinkled had appeared between his brows; Severus knew this only happened when the aged man was trying not to frown.

"Our dear Mr. Potter has indeed been taken hostage by Voldemort." Many of the order gasped, one even broke down into tears, and predictably enough it was Molly Weasley. Between her sobs she managed to repetitively say the phrase.

"Oh the poor dear!" it all made Snape sick to his stomach. Here they were blubbering about something they could all together as a mass fix. But did they? No, and was Severus going to stand up and tell them to do something? Not a chance, he was going to silently laugh at them in his head instead, it was the most entertainment he got at these meetings.

Well he was enjoying the small mess of chaos, until that is, Dumbledore remembered he had a spy in the dark lord's manor.

"Severus, what have you learned?" Snape sneered at all the apprehensive face around him. The potion master decided to have a little fun at their expense. They always did say he was an utter bastard.

"Mr. Potter is enjoying the captivity in the luxury of the dark lord's personal chambers." But they never said he was a liar. Here Snape stopped talking and regarded the room. It was silent, as the meetings with Voldemort were after the dark lord had finished speaking. The potions professor sort of liked it, the silence that is. Rather unfortunate it was all about to be broken. As promptly as he'd thought the worlds "pity it has to end," the room erupted into pandemonium. Having worked past the shock the order processed to blast the ear drums off of every idiot not smart enough to have put a dimming charm on their ears before the meeting had started. Snape, having been to many proceeding meetings, had one placed upon his ears before even having entering the room.

Severus Snape glanced at the all inspiring leader of the light and noticed to no surprise that he had a contemplative look upon his face and was not adding to the mess of voices rising in the room. And the only reason he was probably not stopping his birds from talking was again the contemplative look on his face that told of deep thoughts running through his head.

Just as the potion master tried to quickly slide out of the door he'd strategically place himself next too, the headmaster called him out. He'd tried to leave as quickly as possibly because usually if he didn't, Dumbledore would give him a suicidal mission that'd Snape would usually accept and succeed in accomplishing much to the disgust of one Sirius Black. The potion master idly wondered if he'd ever complete a mission he'd actual enjoy accomplishing. He enjoyed going to betrothals, maybe he'd suggest that as his next assignment.

"Yes headmaster?" Snape asked silkily as the headmaster hailed him over.

"I have an assignment for you Severus." The potion master would have said duh if it was not beneath him, but as it is, he replied with a dignified.

"As I knew you would," instead. It sounded childish even to Snape's ears.

"I wish to know the state of Mr. Potter. Please do not compromise you're position; I know you cannot save him. If the opportunity arises however, then by all means feel free. But Severus I wish to know how he is doing. I suggest bringing you're strongest healing potion; Mr. Potter cannot be in great comfort at the moment."

Mr. Snape only nodded before gracefully dashing out of the room. He had much to think about. He'd just pledged his loyalties to the dark lord. There was no going back from that. But maybe he could help the light. After all, there is no shadow without light. And no darkness without glow.

Sp Potter was a whore that made some previous actions makes more sense, thought Snape as he apparated into the orders head quarters for the second time in as many days. This was the second time he'd left the dark lord; Voldemort was not pleased with him. But the old coot needed to keep trusting him so the dark lord let him be.

He was last to arrive after Dumbledore, he must have been late. Severus Snape did not like being tardy. He pressed through the crowd until he vacated a chair in the corner with a glare. He registered the old man's voice.

"… We have since discovered some very upsetting news when questioning Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. It seems that Mr. Potter," here he paused, as if trying to gather the courage needed just to say the simple sentence. Severus sneered at the sentimentality of it all. If Harry Potter could live it, surely they could say it. "It seems," the old man started up again, "that Mr. Potter has been a child prostitute for most of his short life. His relatives have been... I do believe the word is pimping, him out for money."

The silence lasted longer then when Snape had said Harry was enjoying the company of Death Eaters. In fact, some order members fainted.

No one knew what to say, the potion master figured this was the perfect time to state his finding and make a hurried, but graceful, exit. He longed to return to the delightful potions laboratory the dark lord had been generous enough to gift him with.

"Mr. Potter was healed by the dark lord himself and is at the moment in a magically induced coma to sleep off his remaining injuries without doing further damage to himself and his injuries. When the boy awakes, the dark lord has confided with me, that he will try to seduce and turn the boy. I will now be taking my leave as I am due back at the compound."

The potions professor hadn't wanted to give information that was completely precise up to the now. He might be informing the light with correct information, but he never said I'd be accurate to date.

He left to the silence that the order seemed to have great difficultly over coming. Just as he left the room he heard someone say in a normal tone of voice, though it sounded fairly loud in the silent room.

"WE are so fucked."

Severus would have laughed aloud had it not been so terribly accurate and quite out of character.

A/n: terribly sorry for the long wait. But my course load has been tremendous and I'd broken several bones in my wrist so I was unable to type for a while. This chapter is mostly filler to see what's going on with the other side. Hope you enjoyed. The next chapter will be up soon. It's already written out, just needs to be typed up.


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